Childhood is a fresh song.
I use my tender hands
Divide the days into strings of notes
Jump between your fingers
Childhood is a pure blue painting.
I use clear eyes
Draw the years into a pure blue river
Flowing in my heart
Childhood was picked up in a paddy field.
That string of rice ears
In the long river of time
Shine golden light
When time becomes the color of sadness
Smudge the time and space I have traveled.
When life uses tough hands
Let my heart be full of hardships
Childhood is in my silent heart.
Sing softly, come on.
In the long river of time,
Pearls are deposited into particles.
I am in the silent night
Wear it carefully in a string.
A glittering necklace
Illuminate my whole body and mind.